


the spaces in between

by annperkinsface



Category: Devilman (Anime & Manga), Devilman Crybaby - Fandom
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-23
Updated: 2018-02-23
Packaged: 2019-03-22 07:33:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13759302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annperkinsface/pseuds/annperkinsface
Summary: Miko and Miki after the end.





	the spaces in between

Snapdragons in her hands, soil under her knees. Miko's been kneeling for hours that feel like minutes or minutes that feel like hours, toiling under the sun, but her knees don't ache. Sunlight reflects off the asphalt and surrounding apartment buildings, blinding everything, but the whole of the world has narrowed down to Miko’s hands, rooting out weeds. Dirt under her bitten nails. Dirt lining the creases in her palms. Miko’s never been afraid to get dirty, but there is something missing, something, something—

A shadow falls over her. Miko sits back on her haunches, shading her eyes as she looks up, and Miki stands there, blocking out the sun. She smiles at Miko, hands clasped behind her back. The top buttons of her shirt are undone.

“Hey,” says Miki, warm in a way that normal people would be comforted by but only ever puts Miko on edge; “I brought you something,” and brings her hands forward, holding out a pair of beaten up garden gloves, smiling like it’s a magic trick.

Miko stares. Those are her grandmother’s. She reaches out as if in slow motion but hesitates before the tips of her fingers can brush against worn brown leather, fingers curling back. She swallows, eyes darting between the gloves and Miki’s expectant face. “That's—you shouldn't—”

“C'mon,” Miki says. “It's rude to refuse a gift, you know."

Persistence has always been one of her most annoying qualities. Miko makes to stand but a glint of light in the topsoil catches her eye before she can fully push herself off her knees. Frowning, she leans forward and parts the soil around it, all her breath leaving her throat when the shape comes into view. Yellow; a spider fracture in the lenses. She picks the glasses up by the hinges, eyes wide. A name on her lips that is not their own, and Miko looks to Miki, for reassurance, for clarity, but Miki just stares back, smiling, hands extended like the saints that wallpaper her family's home.

In her palms glints the metal of a baton.

"Take it, Miko."

Miko's eyes dart back to Miki’s face and she wishes she could rewind time and take it back. There is blood trickling from Miki’s mouth now; it drips down her chin, onto her hands, the silver of the baton untarnished no longer. They are in Miko’s garden, her sanctuary, a riot of color in full bloom, but Miko feels wild and unhinged, Kukun's cracked glasses held loosely in her fingers, blood trickling down Miki’s smiling lips.

“Take the baton."

The snapdragons wilt, one by one.

 

* * *

 

The scenery changes. It's summer and her a.c. is busted but Miko somehow isn't sour or bitter, not with Miki in her bed, perfectly at ease with Miko looming over her. They watch each other like this, Miki’s shirt riding up her stomach, a smile caught between her teeth. A window is cracked open, letting in the breeze, and Miko slides her hands up Miki’s sides, watching Miki shiver, wondering if it’s the cold or her. Knowing which one she wants it to be.

Their faces are so close. Miko regards Miki through half lidded eyes, taking it in: the soft curve of her cheek, the faint dusting of freckles on her nose, the gold lining her eyelashes. She could close the gap. She wants to, more than she's wanted anything, but— “This never happened,” says Miko, articulating the truth in her bones. This isn't a memory. It’s not a dream either but it’s close.

“It could have,” Miki says. “If we had more time."

“So we’re dead then,” Miko says, "and what, you're haunting me?"

“Hey, I think it's mutual if anything. You were all weird and foreboding in my dream too. And we were in a church so.” Miki raises her eyebrows. “Sacrilegious.”

That's bullshit, Miko thinks, the beginnings of a scowl curdling her lips. She tells Miki so. Miki laughs. " _You're_ bullshit," she says, running her hands up Miko's forearms. "Your muscles, oh my god."

“You’re the most bullshit. Don't even argue with me on this,” says Miko and she kisses Miki so she won't, because it's the only thing that makes sense, because a part of her she never acknowledged until it was far too late has always wanted to. Miki shivers and opens her mouth first, clinging to Miko’s arms. They kiss, hot and hungry, a century of hate and longing coalescing into a moment Miko is still not certain is real. Death feels so far from here, wherever here is. There's only Miki's mouth, tasting ever so slightly of regret.

The lights flicker and Miko presses the palms of her hands harder against Miki’s stomach, hoping to somehow keep her there, but the whole world goes dark. By the time they flicker back on the scenery of the world has changed again. They're on their school’s track and field; Miki is stretching her arms over her head, wearing her uniform. Miko looks down to see if she is wearing the same and freezes on the baton in her hands. Dream symbolism is so stupid, she thinks, really and truly irritated. Miko wants to throw it aside and keep making out with Miki on the grass.

When she looks up Miki has stopped stretching and is looking at her. “Hey,” she says, eyebrows looking worried. “Are we still having the same dream?”

"I hope not,” says Miko, sparing their surroundings a baleful glance. “Because if we are that would be super fucking boring.”

Miki’s mouth trembles at the edges like she wants to laugh but no sound escapes her lips. The air thickens, despair settling over the two of them like a funeral shroud. There's not enough time, Miko thinks, her heart, forever the most human part of her, wedged in her throat. There never is. Not now, not then.

"Miko," Miki says, a whisper, then again, more strongly: "Miki." Miko— _Miki_ —stops thinking, breathing, feeling, biting her lip hard enough to bleed. Miki smiles tremulously but in her voice is the strength of conviction that swayed tens of thousands of people. “I don't think this is the end."

“Everything ends.” Her voice doesn’t sound like her voice. Something drips down her cheek; Miko touches her left eye, stunned at the wetness there. _Miki_ , she'd said. _Miki, Miki._ The baton is sweaty in her other palm.

“But we’re here, aren't we? Maybe we'll be here again. Not here, here, but...somewhere. I don't know.”

“This is why you’re bullshit, you know,” Miko says and Miki does laugh this time, surprised and more than a little wet. A terrible tenderness swells in her, rising from the space nestled behind Miko’s ribs.

“I guess you learned from the best, huh?"  
  
"I guess so."

They drink their fill of each other, smiles soft and tearful. In reality it’s nowhere close to enough. Would anything be? Miki steps forward to frame Miko’s face with her hands, drawing Miko’s lip between her teeth. There is only Miki’s tongue in her mouth and Miko’s toes curling in her track shoes. She curls her arms around Miki’s back, baton dangling by the fingers. She wants to believe Miki, just this once. Maybe this isn't the end. Maybe one day they'll get it right. Maybe, maybe.

When it's done they get into positions on the starting line. Next to her is Miki, the curve of her spine, the arch of her neck, once hated, now nostalgic. The baton lies abandoned in the grass. Wherever they are running they are running together. Miko closes her eyes. Breathes. She opens them to find Miki staring back at her. They look at each other, smiling, then cast their eyes forward. They run.

**Author's Note:**

> i've been trying to write something for femslash february all month and i am happy i finally succeeded!!! even if it is a result of a weirdo writing experiment to write more externally lol. but uhhhh kissing happened so???? /pets my girls


End file.
